Cultural Divide

I know this shot doesn't actually show my face but it does show ME. I'm a transracial adoptive mama. That means I learned how to part, cornrow, two strand twist, oil and bead african american hair. It means that I'm often judged by how my girls hair looks. It means I never think I'm good enough. My hands can do the work. But my heart always worries. I worry that their mostly white peers will never understand what it means to be a black girl with kinky hair in a straight hair world. I worry that black parents will judge my attempts at the strong cultural tradition of mothers and daughters doing hair. Sunday is typically hair day at our house. For my daughter Lili, right now that means tightening the locs we've just begun. Lili is carefree and joyful and looks best when her hair is short and sassy. For my daughter Josie though, hair day is more involved. She is more in tune with what it means to have hair that is different. She wants straight hair like the pretty blonde white girls in her class. So we spend a lot of time blow drying, flat ironing, slicking back into a pony tail and making sure her hair doesn't get wet during the week.